


Survivor's Guilt

by sycophanticramblings



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-13 03:39:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3366356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sycophanticramblings/pseuds/sycophanticramblings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They won the war, but Clarke loses something even more important. [short bellarke fight drabble set after they win the war against mt weather; warning - this ficlet does not have a happy ending]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Survivor's Guilt

"Lose the battle to win the war," Bellamy mumbled, nodding solemnly, after Clarke finished explaining the strategy behind the event in TonDC. "It was the right call." 

Clarke’s eyes closed in relief. Of course Bellamy would understand. Of course he would’t judge her like her mother for the decision she’d made. “It was the hardest decision I’ve ever made,” she told him, her lip quivering. “Thank you,” for supporting her, for understanding her, for surviving when she sent him to his death. It was worth the risk. They won, thanks to Bellamy. If it had gone any other way, though… a chill ran down Clarke’s spine, she didn’t want to think about whether it would have been worth the risk in that case. 

Now that the war with Mount Weather was over and they had their people back safely, Clarke understood how Lexa had manipulated her. Lexa’s “love is weakness” speech ensured Clarke would lead her people the way Lexa wanted. Maybe Clarke shouldn’t have listened to her. Love is a wildfire; it burns and rages on no matter how many times she tries to quench it with reason or responsibility. The threat of lost love consumes her, and it hurts, but it also motivates her to push farther, fight harder. Love is not a weakness. Apathy is the weakness. If she didn’t love those she set out to protect, she would have no sense of urgency, no fire in her veins, no real conviction as a leader. Besides, the illusion of strength through indifference was just that, an illusion. When she had told Bellamy sneaking into Mount Weather was worth the risk of his life, she felt the heartbreak written all over his face like a sharp blow to the chest. She had struggled to keep her expression hard and neutral. Clarke was lying to herself, unconvincingly so, that she could be a more efficient leader if she didn’t allow her feelings to get in the way of her decision-making. And that’s exactly what Lexa wanted. 

But they won, and Clarke wouldn’t change anything that could lead to any other outcome. She felt the guilt, a heavy weight constantly pressing her down, it was the price to pay for her people’s lives. She accepted it. And now that Bellamy was back, she felt the weight lighten, just slightly. His presence was a comfort to her. Clarke took a step closer to him, reaching out to wrap her arms around him, to press her head against his chest and finally have a quiet moment with him. To mourn those they’ve lost, to celebrate their win, to comfort him, and let him comfort her.

But he stepped away from her. 

The space between them turned cold, and Clarke gazed up at him, hurt and confused.

"You lied to me about Octavia," he said. 

The weight of the guilt doubled in Clarke’s gut.”I’m sorry I lied, Bellamy, I just didn’t want you to be distracted. Distraction leads to mistakes, mistakes lead to you getting killed.”

He nodded. “I’m not mad at you for lying, it was the right thing to do.”

Clarke’s eyebrows furrowed, her eyes searching his for some explanation for his distance. If he agreed with her, then why did he back away from her? Why was he looking at her with an icy cold gaze, arms crossed against his chest? Against her better judgement, she tried to move closer to him again.

He took another step back, shaking his head slowly. “Just answer me one question,” he said, his voice dangerously low.

She wanted to tell him to ask her anything, that she trusts him completely and, now that they’re safe, she would tell him anything he wanted to know. She wanted him to know the whole story, everything that happened. She wanted to be completely honest with him, so he understood her guilt. If anyone could, it would be Bellamy. And, anyways, he was the only one she’d want to open up to. Her voice caught in her throat, though, his tone scaring her into silence. 

"Did you know Octavia was out in the woods with Lincoln when the missile hit TonDC?" 

Clarke’s heart sunk. Her eyes fell away from his, staring at a spot on the floor as hot tears began to cloud her vision. 

"Did you know she was out of the strike zone or did you think she was still in the village?" His voice was steadily climbing in volume. He already knew the answer, which was why he was shouting at her, now. "Did you leave my little sister in that village to die?" 

Tears were falling down Clarke’s pale skin now, one after the other in quick succession. Guilt was overwhelming her, more than ever before. She was drowning in it. Suffocating under its weight. “Bellamy,” she croaked out, forcing herself to look at him. Maybe if he saw how broken she was over this, he would soften.

But he didn’t. He stared at her in complete disgust. “Well, congratulations on winning your war, Princess,” (the nickname stung sharply, the word bringing up painful memories of Finn and the tone reminding her of the first weeks on the ground, when she and Bellamy were sworn enemies), “we’re done here,” Bellamy said, motioning between them. Clarke understood. Their partnership was over. Now that the war was won, they wouldn’t need to strategize or work together. They probably wouldn’t need to interact at all. And judging by the vitriol in Bellamy’s voice, he would make sure they wouldn’t be. 

Bellamy turned on his heel to walk out. Desperate, Clarke grabbed his hand and pulled him back, her body shaking with sobs. “No, Bellamy-,”

He cut her off by whipping his arm out of her grip, but remained where he was, standing very close to her. The proximity was far from comforting, though. Instead, he towered above her, making her feel small and afraid. “I have no idea who you are,” he yelled at her. Clarke leaned away, shrugging into herself to become as small as possible, reflecting how she felt. “Octavia-,” he stopped himself, stepping away from her, “no, you don’t deserve an explanation,” That was true, Clarke already understood. His sister was the line between being strategic and being unforgivable, “you’re not worth it,” he spat. 

The words echoed on repeat in her head. Not worth it. She couldn’t help but agree with him. Who was she to play God? To send the person she trusted most behind enemy lines, risking his life? And then to strategically allow an entire village to be struck with missiles in the interest of protecting him, not because she loved him (as the dark depths of her heart knew was the case) but because he was an asset to the mission? She wasn’t worth it. 

When he turned to leave this time, Clarke let him.

Alone, Clarke wrapped her arms around her waist, like she was physically trying to hold herself together. Wave after wave of tears rolled over her, drowning her, until her throat was scratched raw and her head was pounding. They won the war, but Clarke began to think maybe none of it was worth the risk, after all.

Clarke ground her teeth together, resolve building in her. She wiped under her eyes furiously, brushing away all traces of tears. The feeling of her heart shattering in her chest was incapacitating. She didn't have time for it. The war was won, but there was still work to be done, still tough decisions to be made. Lexa was right, after all. Love is weakness.


End file.
